status: open (2/5) @sinnerssquarestart
location: any neutral bar
πππ πππ πππππππ πππ πππ smelled of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and something faintly metallic. Rust? Blood? Neither would be surprising. Janie stood beneath the spotlight of a street lamp, leaning casually against a brick wall, one foot propped up behind her. Phone to her ear, her voice was hushed at first. βDarling, thatβs not what we agreed on,β her voice was velvety, words completely enunciated. Suddenly, her volume rose though her tone was monotone, casual, like she was reading off a list of ingredients. "If I were you, I'd get my memory straight. Quickly. Before I put your dick through a meat grinder and feed it to your family." She ended the call abruptly and turned her head, immediately catching sight of someone. For a split second, her dark eyes glinted with something unreadable. But then, suddenly, she laughed a short burst, and clapped her hands together, "Landlords, am I right? Heβs threatening to evict meβagain. He can get so pissy sometimes. You know how it is, don't you?"
Tae-oh leaned back against the bar, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he regarded Janie. His dark eyes flicked from her face to the nearly-empty glass she slammed on the counter, then to the sorry state of the slumped drunkard beside her. "You call that violence?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, with a teasing edge that matched her own. "Iβd hardly call teaching someone the consequences of running their mouth a crime against your βdelicate sensibilities.β But then again," he added, leaning in just enough to lower his voice further, "I donβt think βdelicateβ is the word anyone would use to describe you." Tae-oh signaled the bartender with a flick of his wrist, never breaking eye contact with her. "A drink for the lady, on me. But letβs get one thing straight, Janie." His tone shifted slightly, a little darker, a little more serious as he leaned closer, close enough that she could hear him over the pounding bass of the club. "You donβt get something for nothing with me. You want a drink? Fine. But Iβm expecting a hell of a show in return." He straightened, his smirk returning as he slid a finger along the rim of her empty glass and pushed it toward the bartender. "Letβs see if youβre as good at keeping up as you are at running your mouth."
πππππ πππππ πππππ ππππ from the dramatic. She had a flair for it, never seeming to take much seriously. Often sarcastic, she enjoyed banter with whoever happened to be in front of her at any given moment. "What word would you use to describe me?" she questioned. Eyebrows perking slightly, she fixed him with a curious look, purposefully widening her eyes like a fawn in headlights. Not like Janie actually expected him to buy the doe-eyed facade. He knew better than that. Dark orbs met his gaze dead on and held it as he spoke. Without even looking in the bartender's direction, she barked out her order. "Something fun. Surprise me! But don't skimp on the top-shelf shit. Since he's paying." It was entertaining, talking to someone like Tae-oh instead of a Wall Street junior finance bro trying to get in her pantsβthe typical New York bar experience. "Oh you know I'm good for much more than running my mouth. And I'd never expect you to do something for nothing. Wouldn't be...fitting." Janie flashed a quick grin and then, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek, gingerly leaned back in her stool. "So. Should we do the small talk thing? How's your....cat?" A snicker. "Do you even have a cat?"
Freddie. Freddie has only ever lived his life in the fast lane. He's only ever known how to exist with a finger hovering over the self destruct button.
The destruction comes in different forms, always replacing itself, he's come to learn.
He's not taking drugs.
Hes drinking less.
Instead he's working himself to death.
He takes every shift at seduction without question. He does as Zak asks and trains at the gym every morning. He volunteers at the YMCA after school club. He still visits his family every day.
He makes sure his calendar is booked so there's not a second to think. Not a moment to think about the friends he hasn't seen or the ones he lost to the war. No, instead he works. At night he rides his bike for hours, looking for any crack in the city.
Now, he sits at the coffee shop table, sleep in his eyes as he stares down at the piles of essays he's volunteered to read over for some of the seventeen year olds at the youth club. He had gotten into college. He was ready and raring to go. But life didnβt work that way for him, it never seems to. So it gives him some sort of peace to help these kids achieve what he never will. The only issue is - heβs so fucking tired, and he knows it as his head hits the table, immediately jolting him awake, an awkward laugh escaping his lips β fuck, sorry - β he mumbles, barely registering the person standing in front of him. β you can have this table if you want. β
ππππππππ πππ πππππ ππππππππππ herself one for club life -- not since she arrived in new york city. however, since joining the serpents and marrying her husband and his eventual death -- she found herself establishing a sense of routine with her attendance. that, and many of her close associates found themselves gravitating towards this place and babylon like a collection of moths to a flame. on this particular evening she finds herself perched in her usual booth, drink in hand, when she notices someone staring from across the way. somehow, this outing had quickly become one of her more boring ones, so she was looking for something to liven up the evening. make things interesting. raising her finger, she beckons them in her direction before speaking. " did your mother ever teach you that it's not polite to stare? " she teases, her words a gentle jab. " besides -- i don't bite. that hard. "
πππ πππ πππππ πππ π ππ politeness or subtlety, that much was clear. She liked to study people. Observe and watch like a cat hunting prey. And when she was noticed, beckoned over with a finger by the other, she didn't shrink away but rather weaved through the crowd, somehow without breaking eye contact. "I don't have a mother," she replied curtly. "Must be why I'm so rude. I'd say you should spank me and teach me a lesson, but I'd enjoy that too much." Janie parked a bottle she'd swiped from behind the bar against her lips and took a gracious swig. Bottom shelf liquor that burned when it went down. If the bouncers caught her, they'd definitely kick her out. "I bite back. I'm quite feral."
The nightclub was alive with music, bodies moving in rhythm under pulsating lights. Tae-Oh slid into an empty seat at the crowded bar with the causal grace of someone who clearly thought the world revolved around him. Before he could even order, a beefy man loomed over him, laying a hand on his shoulder. βHey, dude,β the man growled. βThat was my seat.β Tae-Oh glanced over his shoulder, then gave the guy a slow once-over, his expression a mix of boredom and mild disdain. βOh? Was your name on it? Is this your club? Did the bartender personally reserve it for you? What cosmic law makes this your seat?β He tilted his head with a mocking smile. βIβm dying to know.β The manβs face twisted in irritation as Tae-Oh turned back to the bar, dismissing him entirely. A moment later, the hand on his shoulder tightened. Tae-Oh sighed dramatically, as if the universe itself had conspired to inconvenience him. βLook, I was having a nice time ignoring you,β Tae-Oh said, swiveling back around. Before the man could respond, Tae-Oh casually grabbed his hand in a grip that immediately turned the guyβs bravado into regret. βNow youβve gone and irritated me,β Tae-Oh said, his tone light but laced with menace. He squeezed, and the distinct sound of a pop echoed over the music. The man yelped, his face twisting in pain. βDo you want me to fix the other hand too?β Tae-Oh asked sweetly, raising an eyebrow. The man frantically shook his head, muttering something that might have been an apology as he stumbled away, cradling his injured hand. Tae-Oh turned back to the bar, unbothered, and caught someone staring. He gave her a lazy smile and shrugged. βWhat can I say? Some people just have no manners.β Then, with a wink, he added, βSorry you had to see that, love. Shouldβve been funnier if he cried more.β
πππππ πππππ πππ ππππππππ π in the city that never slept. She was at some club. The name? She couldn't tell you. She hardly even knew what was in the drink she was sippingβa cocktail of mixed liquors humorously and aptly called a trashcan. All she knew was that she was well on her way to being drunk. She picked at a plate of fries she hadn't ordered but rather stole from a slumped-over man seated next to her who got too wasted to keep his head up before they came out of the kitchen. Amusement snaked over her delicate features as she watched the scene play out. "Didn't realize I'd be getting dinner and a show," she purred as she licked her lips and grinned. "He's probably going to go cry in the bathroom. Boo hoo, bitch boy can't handle a little bar fight. You let him off easy, considering." Janie took a big swallow of her drink, emptying its contents into her mouth and slamming the glass down suddenly. The thud noticeably startled the nearly-passed-out drunkard next to her, to which Janie let out an audible cackle before returning her attention back to Tae-Oh. "Ya know, you should be sorry. That kind of violence offends my delicate sensibilities. Order my next drink and we can call it even." Sarcasm and playfulness were woven into every word, although she was serious about getting a free drink out of him.
(GO MIN-SI, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER)Β Oh, is thatΒ JANIE KIM?Β I heard theΒ TWENTY-EIGHT-year-old isΒ PLAYFUL.Β But donβt let that pretty face fool you, they are also SOCIOPATHIC.Β Makes sense seeing how they are a HITWOMAN in theΒ CRIMSONS gang.Β (nai, 30, she/her, est)
tw: violence, abuse, torture, gaslighting, murder
statistics.
full name: han ji-eun.
alias(es): janie kim (alias since coming to new york) // nyx (assassin code name)
birthday: oct 15.
age:Β twenty-eight.
birth place:Β ulsan, south korea.
gender:Β cis woman.
pronouns: she/her.
orientation:Β bisexual.
languages spoken:Β korean & english.
career: assassin.
gang affiliation: the crimsons.
inspired by: cat adams (criminal minds), azula (atla), villanelle (killing eve), sofia falcone (the penguin).
about.
born in south korea as han ji-eun, her childhood glittered with privilege. she and her sister were raised in ulsan, south korea, their lives doused in luxury. private school. maids. seats in first class. the han family was wealthy and well-connected. from the outside looking in, it was perfect. but it was a facade.
her father, a narcissistic and cruel man whose life was entrenched in crime ruled the family with an iron fist. fear and manipulation were his primary tools. he noticed certain traits in ji-eun that her sister lacked. her fierce independence that contrasted the other's clinginess. her fearlessness that overshadowed her sister's tears and clinginess. she was quick-witted, clever. by the time she was five, ji-eun could lie convincingly enough to fool a grown adult. these are traits her father identified not as red flags but as potential. rather than addressing these things, he exploited them, grooming her to follow in his criminal footsteps.
her childhood was a crucible of cruelty and control. her father subjected her to torture, twisting her into a reflection of his own sadistic tendencies. he was a hyungnimβmob boss. while most kids were still writing letters to santa and skinning their knees falling off bikes, ji-eun was shadowing her father. watching him extort, threaten, and kill.
ji-eun learned to navigate her father's volatile moods, becoming adept at reading people and exploiting their weaknesses. she didn't see this as survival but rather as a game that she could win. she desired her father's approval. and he turned her into a knife. a mad dog. then he let her off the leash.
until came the fateful job that changed ji-eun's trajectory. though she was only fifteen, it was not her first assignment from her father. she was meant to lure a young drug dealerβonly four years older than herselfβto a location where her father could kill him for stealing. but she was caught on security cameras by police investigating the murder. when the police questioned her father, like an animal backed into a corner, he blamed her. "my daughter's always been very disturbed. she must have killed him." he got away with murder and ji-eun was left with the blame. she was the only one in the surveillance footage after all. her pleas of innocence were drowned out by the psychiatrists her father paid to lie and the police he bribed to railroad her with the little evidence they had.
at just sixteen, ji-eun found herself in a juvenile detention center. she was there for three years. a relatively light sentence for murder but considering she hadn't killed anyone, it felt like agonizing decades. the psychiatrists wrote her off as a sociopath. kept her isolated from other offenders and subjected her to a cocktail of drugs meant to suppress her rebellious spirit. they split apart her skull to sift through its fragments, making her lose touch with reality. they told her that her memories weren't real. they dismissed her traumas as delusions. "you killed that boy, not your father. your father never hurt you. it's all in your head. it's all in your head. it's all in your head."
the three years of isolation and forced compliance gnawed away at any fragments of humanity she still clung to. at nineteen she was released, colder and more unhinged than ever. she wanted revenge. wanted to kill her father. but he'd taught her better than that. it'd be a suicide mission, after all. and her father, seeing her as a liability in south korea, arranged for her to leave the country. he set her up in a sparse apartment in new york city, severing his ties with her but providing enough resources to keep her afloat.
in new york, her skill set and lack of remorse made her a natural fit for the crimsons. after all, she'd been training her whole life to be used as a weapon. her methods are intimate and calculated, striking with brutal efficiency. her kills always leave a bloody and brutal message.
personality.
janie's ruthless nature lurks beneath surprising layers of nonchalance and sociability. underneath her innocent and playful exterior lies a cold brutality that manifests with chilling precision if the situation demands. she can come off as friendly. good-humored bordering on irreverent. charming. janie can be anything you need her to beβadorable, funny, warm, or vulnerable. she wears many masks and lies with ease. her mind is a labyrinth of calculated moves and raw impulses, whether playing the fool or unleashing her full sadistic force.
janie pursues pleasure and chaos without concern for consequences, living as though each day might be her last. she fears nothing, not even death. and she lives for indulgence, thinking of her toys and silk gowns, the little sports car that collects dust in her parking garage, as her βchildrenβ. she'll do almost anything for the right price.
while she often comes across as emotionally impenetrable, something vital within her is missing. and it's this void that makes her capable of betrayal without hesitation. whether it's nature or nurture that's made her this way, is anyone's best guess. yet, beneath the layers of detachment and chaos, she's still capable of love. these moments are fleeting and do little to tether her to her humanity. her traumas from a lifetime of betrayal, abuse, and manipulation have left deep scars and she sometimes spirals into childish and reckless behavior, a symptom of the years she spent being medicated, gaslit, and tortured.
hcs.
janie goes by her name as a nod to jane doeβshe just thinks janie is more fun than jane. she wants to be anonymous and as such, no one knows her real name ji-eun. she changed her last name to kim because it's the most popular south korean surname. another way to become anonymous.
she's very impulsive. she'll spend 5k online shopping. she'll take a pair of scissors to her hair in the bathroom mirror. she lights things on fire. she'll steal your rolex after a one-night stand.
more tba.
connections.
a few hook-ups bc come ON. look at her
family
connections from south korea
hate sex
enemies. she probably has lots and lots because she won't hesitate to betray people
someone who wants revenge against her
one or two people she has a genuine connection with
βI am a liar and a thief. Donβt let me into your house, and if you do, donβt leave me alone. I take things. You can catch me with your string of fine pearls clickering in my greedy little paws, and Iβll tell you they reminded me of my motherβs and I just had to touch them, just for a second, and Iβm so sorry, I donβt know what came over me. My mom never owned any jewelry that didnβt turn her skin green, but you wonβt know that. And Iβll still swipe the pearls when youβre not looking.β
β Libby Day, Dark Places by Gillian Flynn, page 52. (via orangeconditioner)
